


Through Shadow Steps

by GraciousThorns



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-12-15 10:30:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11804205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GraciousThorns/pseuds/GraciousThorns
Summary: An alternative universe in which Akali never joined the Kinkou's triumvirate, but rather serves the Shadow Order as a fellow master with Zed.The fearsome and renowned master of the forbidden technique is assigned to eliminate her former allies. Two paths, but only one choice, torn her apart in an inner-conflict.





	Through Shadow Steps

One of the two kamas rises, then swiftly descends on the boy's upper torso, the non-lethal side leaving behind a nasty mark and stealing the air from his lunges. She watches, natural and fierce browns locked onto him, exhilarated, the boy is fighting against all odds to hide the insufferable jolt of pain, the pain of his punishment. With bewilderment in her eyes, covered by stoic, facial features. Disciplining a student is every teacher's duty; but for the woman, it so much more, a secret she dares not speak. She takes enjoyment from such sessions, the sweet pleasure of being in full authority.

She strikes the boy again, on his lower back, forcing him to gently lean backwards, a move of reflexives.  
"You are weak," she spats outs coldly, her voice echoing in the chamber. Her knuckles, they have turned white by the force which she applies on to her weapons, hungry for more.

"I beg for your f-forgiveness, mistress..."

She strikes his stomach, taking no bother to answer, the blow forcing him to his knees. Blood soon begins to rise to his mouth, thick drops clinging to his lips, but she shows no hesitation. "On your feet, this is not over yet," another strike to the side of his cranium. "Now!"

The boy struggles against tears, against the burning marks and the bleeding, weakly forcing himself to stand. He is a petite, skinny mess, she notes with a certain sadistic amusement, his hair is wild and he is desperate to hide the shame of the loss of his clothes, his strength is betraying him and his body is praying for relief with every move of his muscle. He is squirming with fear and regret, lightly, much like a dying fish that was forced out of the water; yet this must be done, she knows, and she wants. "P-please... I promise, I will not f-fail you again..."

"Oh, I have no doubts," her response is immediate, coated with venom and mercilessness. She strikes his back, harder and on the same spot, and she feel his teeth digging deep into the flesh of his bottom lip, holding aback screams of agony, whereas a moan provokes her own mouth at the sound of bones cracking. Good. "But it does not erase your inability to live to my expectations. You underperformed, you raised your voice at me and you disobeyed. I have absolute zero for those who disobey me." 

The boy hides his eyes in shame, forcefully shutting them to contain the tearing spree. She knows, he dares not speak anymore. She strikes at his feet and she drops him to the ground, flat on his chest and she strikes at both of his arms, high at the back side. Then a foot locks his head against the matress, fiery red like his own, she reverses her kama in between skilled fingers and with a violent tendency rushing in her veins at that moment, she slashes him, a clean cut that removes a straight line of flesh and sends crimson flying to the window of the room. She breathes in his violent screaming and breakdown, the manner in which he fights with the remaining force in him to break free, she feels the crimson of her own eyes darken and the sweet, familiar taste of the warm blood takes bloom on her tongue. This nasty scar, it will forever mark him, along with the many others she has 'graced' him in the past, his back is her canvas and her kamas are the brushes she uses to draw her lines. They cut deep and they dig to his warmth, their cold steel seeking refugee. She allows him as much as to scream during their private time -- it is only fuel to her bloodthirst-- and she feels joy. But the boy is pleading for his life, his nails cracking open as he runs them on the ground beneath, desperate and needy to escape his hell. To no avail, of course, he moves for an inch or so and his mistress delivers a kick to his scalp.

"We are not done yet, are we? Where do you think you are going?"

;--

 

Later that day, she has retired to the meditating grounds by the time the sun has begun to flee and the veil of darkness hints its impending presence upon the sky: A small area, cornered by thick bushes of fully blossomed sakura's and tsumaki's that add colour to the lifeless pattern of grey and black of the temple, two ablaze candles set on either of her sides closely by, producing the soothing scent of vanilla, and a waterfall in the near distance, the sound of splashing water a white noise she carelessly listens to. She has assumed the usual position of crossed legs and palms on her knees, her fingers all pressed against each together, her spine and head slowly leaning forward and her eyes shut in focus. Every breath she takes, she lets it run all throughout her inner body. An energy she absorbs directly from nature, she projects it first from her nose, down to her lunges, to split it apart and let it cool her arms, to then tickle her stomach, brush her thighs and find release through her toenails; and she repeats, every time a breath has been freed, with a steady rhythm of dedication. Relaxed, at peace, in the solidarity she activates her spiritual eyes and takes a peek into the shadows within, the feeling she is all to familiar with, ethereal.

It's not an experience that may ever be described with words, but rather it can be understood if ever one achieves this state of mind. For years now, she has been attempting to teach her students, to unlock their potential and learn to walk on the thin thread that is their soul, to channel their aura, to no avail. The Shadow Steps, she has named it, an ability she too was taught, after a long period of time training under Zed himself, an ability that has proven to be useful to no bounds, allowing one to escape the physical realm and enter a different state of existence. She feels light like a feather or a gentle breath, suddenly she is no more restrained by the frailty of her body and she can sense her spirit flying and she knows at that moment, she has achieved this art, that the process is complete. Pride is somewhere in to her heart, she was the only one to this date to have mastered this ability, save for the master.

But a sudden unseen force, stronger than her conviction, disturbs her nirvana and breaks the hold. Her lids dart wide open as a reaction, feeling her spirit violently, like a gunshot, surrender once more to her body's confinement, dashing inside. Only one has this power to do so, she knows, and she recognizes his presences. "I thought you would be here," the deep voice of Zed breaks the monotony of the silence and awakens her. "Rise."

It's hard to tell from his voice alone which are the emotions Zed holds at the present, the purpose of which he came to her, but she knows better than to disobey. Lips frowned in mild annoyance and a brow risen high, she stands to her heels in an instant and turns to face Zed, holding on to this eye contact. "And what for?"

"You disciplined Kayn today, as I was told." He is displeased.

She scoffs. "What of it? Miserable young one, he is unable to learn. It was necessary."

"He has been disciplined far too many times."

"He is my student, he will be handled as I wi--"

"Enough," Zed pauses her mid-sentence, the edge on his tone gradually becoming evident. "You have been feeding on an unrestrained hatred for him since the day he was brought to the Order, your way will lead him to premature death under my watch. What is the meaning of cutting him open and breaking his bones, he almost died today."

"Then let him die," she counters with a deadly gaze, cold as the winter, "the weak fall and the strong remain. We will not show hospitality to the weak, the dead among the living. He is not capable of learning the forbidden technique, he is not worthy to walk with us." She hisses in addition to her answer, bitter and furious by now. Kayn has been a subject of more than one incidents of conflict between the two, for as long as he has been present. She hates the boy, and she makes sure Zed hears of it. Ever since he introduced a stray boy, with dirty hair, covered in bruises and broken eyes, she hated him, nothing but a weak doll, a waste of time. Zed insisted he saw potential in the boy, that he could thrive, and he even ventured as far as to assign him under her own care, something that was unforgivable to her judgement.

On the opposing side, Zed growls underneath his mask and she can feel his jaw stutter in its place. "From now and onward, he will be mine to teach and my decision is final!" And she knows, she cannot provoke his boundaries at this state. She knows, a new subject is at hand, but the previous will be the cause of another of their arguments in good time. It's far from over, best she shallows the pill called pride. "The Kinkou is on the move."

Bingo. She covers her surprise in another of her scoffs. "What of it?"

"Two Vastayans have been causing an uproar for a while now, they call it a crusade. They want to claim magic for their own."

"The ones that infiltrated our establishments and freed some other Vastayan prisoners we had?"

She can now sense Zed's eyes narrowing. "Positive. After they rescued their friends, their diplomat sought out the Kinkou and informed them about our actions. Now they are working together to locate us and ruin everything we've built," he clenches a gloved palm into a strong fist. "The seas will run red with their blood, before I sit idle and watch their plan unfold. Before Shen's ways unfolds. But the Vastayan bitch is smart, she can sense our magic from miles away and she is dangerous. So is her partner, who was able to handle dozens of acolytes all of his own."

She falls into brief silence at that moment, considering the things she had heard. Her facial features softening, betraying she is in thought, with brows furrowed against each other and wrinkly lips, a finger toying them. Shen and Kennen, her allies and... friends. The three shared their days together at the old monastery, they trained and they had come close. She even had come /very/ close with Shen, during their teenage era. Of course, it all changed when Zed presented them with the new Way, the two were weak, but she was strong and she ascended. From that day, she knew meeting them on the fray would indeed be inevitable, yet she was not expecting others to interfere. Many times has she dreamed of their encounter, the ways she will make them scream, or how they will bleed below her and die, for her to witness their final breaths. She has dreamed many times, of a fierce battle that will forever satisfy her lusting beast. Finally: "And what do you propose? Do we take their heads stealthily?" Her voice clearly indicates she is prepared for a fight, should the answer be affirmative. They often argue about the Kinkou as well, in addition to all the other reasons, as both wish to be the ones to deliver death upon Shen personally; Kennen is not as important and she is willing to allow others to be his end, however.

"No, I will not grant Shen the satisfaction of a swift death. He deserves worse, so much worse than that, he deserves a fate just like his father's. But you, you will take the yordle's furry head and bring it to me. Kill the abomination that brings shame to the true ninjas to me, Akali."

And with that, a wicked smirk slowly begins to form on to Akali's lips. This will enrage Shen...


End file.
